Angels of Mercy
by oz diva
Summary: In new Avonlea, the community rallies to help families in distress, the Cuthbert's included. One shot.


_With thanks to_ Elizasky _for the prompt._

 **Angels of Mercy**

Marilla was a fretful bairn.

Constance was tucked up asleep in her bed when she heard a familiar cry in the night. Sighing, she rolled out of her warm spot, put on her dressing gown and padded over to the cradle. "Shh shh, Marilla, what's the matter wee one? Time for some milk?" unbuttoning her nightgown she sat on the rocking chair in the weak moonlight and helped her daughter locate the breast. It hurt a bit, as it always did at first, but soon enough the night was still with only the sound of Marilla suckling. As Constance fed the baby, she thought as she often did at this time, about how very alone she was. Her family were on the other side of the Atlantic, it was just she, David and their two babies. A tear snuck down her cheek as she thought of her Mama so very far away. She'd never see her again, she knew. These long nights were the worst. During the day, she was too busy to think about it much, but now in the quiet of wee sma's those thoughts came back to haunt her.

Once Marilla had finished, Constance had to walk around the house patting her on the back for hours in a vain attempt to get her to sleep again. If she stopped, even for an instant, Marilla's face would turn beetroot red and she would commence to screaming again thereby waking up her brother and father. Constance hated to wake up David, he needed his sleep. The farm work was arduous. When she might eventually get Marilla to sleep again, dawn's first rays would be sneaking a peek over the horizon. Time to make David his breakfast as he milked the cows.

"Bad night again?" David asked, he could see dark rings around Constance's eyes.

"Aye" she replied wearily. "I've been up since three."

"Why don't you try for a nap now, to catch up a bit?"

They heard a cry from Matthew's cot. "Can't. I have to get him fed too and it's laundry day."

So, it would go. With Constance only getting a few hours' sleep at night and a full day's work each day. She was rapidly running out of energy.

If they had been at home in Scotland they could have reached out to friends and family, but David felt helpless here in Avonlea. They had not lived here long and had not had time to make friends.

One afternoon Reverend Pearson paid a call. He knew Mrs Cuthbert had had a baby recently and always liked to check up in that situation, just to make sure they were coping. He was pleased to see that the farm was neat. It was a sign of poor management if the garden was not tended. But this holding was as neat as a pin, barely a leaf out of place. At around three o'clock he knocked on the door. Constance opened the door and welcomed him in. He noted that the house looked somewhat disheveled; a young toddler with unkempt hair was eating a piece of bread at the kitchen table and a baby was crying upstairs. Constance excused herself to fetch the baby and once she had her settled in her arms, she came downstairs to make the minister some tea. There were no cookies to accompany it. Rather than judging her, Reverend Pearson soon realised that Mrs Cuthbert was completely at the end of her tether.

That night over dinner, Reverend Pearson chatted with his wife, Morag, about the congregation. "I paid a visit to Mrs Cuthbert today."

"Are they the family at the end of the lane?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Green Gables, is that the name of the house?" Mrs Pearson queried.

"It's very striking," the minister replied.

"Quiet folk."

"Aye."

"Not given to idle gossip, a bit isolated from the community."

Yes, that's them."

"How are they faring?"

"Not so good. I believe her new daughter isn't settling at night. I doubt she's had a good nights' sleep for weeks."

"Poor woman. It's hard when you're all alone too."

"I shall ask the congregation to pray for her on Sunday."

Mrs Pearson looked at him thoughtfully.

"Isn't that good enough? What else can we do?" He responded to her unspoken query.

"Well prayers are all well and good, but you know I think we should do more. A prayer isn't much good in the wee sma's when your baby's fretful, you're exhausted and have to get up to do all the housework in the morning."

"What do you have in mind, Morag?"

"I think perhaps as a community we could do more."

* * *

Upon returning with the milk the next day, David found a full casserole dish on the doorstep. He looked around, but there was no one to be seen. He carried it in to Constance, who placed it on the table.

"Should we?"

"I think we should. I don't know who left it anyways?" David replied.

Constance lifted the lid on the beef stew, it smelt divine.

David left for another day in the fields, he was busy sowing the crops. Constance sat down wearily. She could hear Marilla crying but she just didn't have the energy to tend to her. There was a knock on the door. Heavens! She was barely dressed yet. Covering herself up with a shawl, she answered the door. Without ceremony two women bustled in introducing themselves as Mrs Potter and Mrs Lynde.

"Come now, back to bed, Mrs Cuthbert. You look utterly exhausted," ordered one of the ladies, Constance wasn't sure which was which.

Confused, Constance let herself be led into her bedroom and lay down. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. The ladies could hear the baby starting up.

"I hate to wake her again, do you have any spare, Mrs Lynde?"

Mrs Lynde felt her breasts, her youngest, Thomas was eleven months old. "I think I should be all right Thomas drank his fill this morning, but I've probably got enough for this wee one." Walking into the baby's room, she picked her up, checked her diaper, changed it and settled down to feed. "She's a sweet little thing isn't she, Mrs Potter?"

"She is at that, but I suspect not a sleeper. Do we know her name yet?"

"I think it's Mar-illa? Something like that."

"Hmm unusual, I wonder where it came from?"

"Maybe they had a relative with that name, back in the old country?"

"I expect so."

After she had finished feeding wee Marilla, Mrs Lynde tried to settle her. No sooner had Marilla been laid down in her cot, she drew up her knees to her tummy letting out a loud squawk. "Aha, gas. Oh, you poor wee toty thing. Come now," Mrs Lynde walked around the house patting the baby on her back to bring up the wind.

"Now we know why poor Mrs Cuthbert's not getting enough sleep. She's a gripy baby. That's no good."

When David came in for his morning-tea he was surprised to find two strange women in his house instead of Constance. "

"You must be Mr Cuthbert, we are here to help. We've fed your daughter, minded your son," listed Mrs Potter.

"Done the dishes and now we're about to wash the floor," finished Mrs Lynde.

"Where-where is my wife?" David was dumbfounded.

"She's sleeping peacefully. Goodness, she must have been exhausted. We'll leave after we've done the floors, but more help will come tomorrow. You're not to worry about a thing."

"How did you know we needed help?" David felt he should be aghast, but to be honest they were not coping.

"Wheesht now, the minister popped by the other day and noticed that your wife was exhausted. He thought she needed a hand. It's hard here isn't it, with no family support. If we were back in the old country, we'd have our mothers or sisters to lend us a hand. But here we are all alone. That's where the community can help."

"What can we do to repay you?"

"Just help out next time someone needs it, that's all."

* * *

In time Marilla began to sleep at night, meaning her mother could too. Constance was able to manage the hard work of minding a house again. It was arduous labour, looking after two young children, along with the laundry, cooking, cleaning, and all the sundry tasks that a woman in the 1800s had to attend to, but at least she had some sleep at night.

One day, the Minister came to call again. He was delighted to be met at the door by the charming Mrs Cuthbert, looking far happier on this day. She was able to put together a nice spread for afternoon tea and thanked him for the help they had received a few months earlier. "I don't know how I can ever repay those kind women."

"Well now, I expect you can. I'm considering starting a Ladies Aid Society to help out in situations like you faced. No one has an extended family to help out. When things go wrong, we're all alone. I want to set up an organization that provides help when it's needed."

Constance could see the sense in that, particularly as she and her neighbours were isolated.

So it came to pass. When families found themselves needing a little assistance due to new babies, illness, poor crops or whatever, the community rallied around them. Everyone was pleased to help, because everyone knew their turn might be next. There but for the Grace of God was their catch cry.

* * *

Many years later, when Marilla was middle aged, it was the McNulty family who were in need. Marilla, of course, was ignorant to her own mama's need for assistance, knew nothing about her own unsettled beginnings.

The McNulty's were new to the area. They had several young children and a new one just born, to make matters worse Mr McNulty had hurt his back rescuing a stray calf. The minister paid them a call and it was apparent the young mother was not coping, a wee baby and an unwell husband caused a myriad of issues. At the next Ladies' Aid meeting the minister asked the ladies present to contribute in whatever way they felt they could. Marilla had helped out at plenty of families' houses over the years, and the McNulty's were no different. Despite being new to the area, and thus having never helped anyone before, the ladies rallied to the cause. It was the Christian thing to do.

Along with several other ladies, she joined a roster to help out the family; popping by with dinners and treats, or spending the afternoon doing the laundry or mopping the floor.

Marilla had taken advantage of their assistance herself on occasion, most memorably when Matthew had passed away. She had been insensible at that time, so the ladies had swung into gear, providing her and Anne with enough food to sustain them through those first awful days.

* * *

Now Marilla was old and ill herself. She lay in her bed, unable to find any comfort. She overheard a knock at the door and murmured voices. The nurse, Grace, stuck her head in and asked if Mrs Boulter could come and sit with her for a bit. Marilla nodded, she had never been particularly close to Mrs Boulter, but they had known each other for years. Grace gently wiped Marilla's face with a washcloth and placed a warm shawl about her shoulders.

She opened the door to admit Mrs Boulter. Marilla smiled, and Mrs Boulter took up a chair next to the bed. "We're just delivering some food at this difficult time. You've helped out so often yourself Mrs Blythe, now it's your turn."

"I'm not particularly hungry."

"I'm sure you're not, dear. But the family will be. Let the Avonlea community feed them, one less thing for them to think about.

Marilla smiled at that, thinking about all the meals she had prepared for others over the years. Yes, it seemed right that her family should be the beneficiary again.

* * *

A/N As far as I can tell the American Ladies Aid Societies were started to assist in the American Civil War. This society does not do that as you can see, after all charity begins at home.


End file.
